


I'm sorry about your lamp

by TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Don’t copy to another site, Idiots in Love, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 10:10:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19271101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy/pseuds/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy
Summary: Crowley comes home to a surprise...





	I'm sorry about your lamp

Crowley let out a grunt as he manifested in his house, scaring the plants into a sudden shiver. The year was 1889, he had failed to delay the construction of the Eiffel Tower and been chewed out by the head office. On top of that, he had to spend almost three months in Paris, which he hated oh, so very much. He had an abysmal record in tempting the French (point in case), and he still didn’t know why. If he knew he could do something about it, but there was that. Nothing to do now but move on. Or maybe get drunk. Yes. Drunk.

He had been scheduled to take a boat back to London, but in the end he had given in and teleported himself back home at the train station, too tired to even think about boarding the carriage. With a stroke over his chest he changed his clothes from something that blended into Paris to a loose robe that wouldn’t have looked out of place in ancient Rome. Crowley adored togas. Comfortable, airy, stylish around his slender body. Too bad they had gone out of style. Also very fitting for what he was about to do.

He turned towards his liquor cabinet when he heard a sound, drifting by, faintly as if it was carried by the wind. Crowley instinctively stood incredibly still. There it was again. He frowned. There was someone in his house. There shouldn’t be. The barrier he set should’ve made it impossible for humans to recognise his place as anything important, thereby bypassing it automatically. He wasn’t afraid, not really. Curious was a better word. The sound again. He strained to make it out. Too far away. Upstairs.

Crowley could be as silent as the snake he still was underneath it all. He walked upstairs, the old wood under his feet not even creaking. Then he heard it again and couldn’t believe it. It… sounded like a moan… but… He slithered through the corridor, up to his bedroom, took off his glasses, pressed his eye against the wood. With the help of a bit of his powers he could see through it, though for a second he wished he hadn’t.

A whispered curse welcomed him. A sweaty body in the middle of his bed, writhing on his sheets. Creamy white skin, flushed pink, a mouth open, panting, gasping. Another moan. Crowley swallowed heavily.

There he was: Aziraphale, naked. Stroking himself, completely lost in his head, thighs parted in what seemed like an open invitation. Well, not completely naked, Crowley realised. Aziraphale wore a pair of leather gloves, which shone invitingly as they moved over hard flesh, contrasting the white skin where the angel pinched his own nipple.

Crowley wanted to stumble backwards in shock, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. And then his breathing stopped.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale moaned, gripping himself harder. “Yes…”

With a start Crowley realised that he, himself, was rock hard, his erection pressing against the wood of the door. How was he supposed to react? What was he supposed to do now? Something in his head wanted to panic, but he shushed that part into a far corner.

“Oh god…” Aziraphale continued, bringing one of the gloves to his face, eyes still closed, blaspheming absentmindedly. It only made him look better.

Crowley watched him lick the leather, suck on his own fingers. It was then that he realised that those were Crowley’s gloves. The riding gloves he kept in the closet, top shelf. His head was swimming. This could only mean…

He couldn’t wait any longer. Just then Aziraphale once again cried out.

“Crowley…” he whimpered.

“Yes?” Crowley answered, appearing at the front of the bed.

Aziraphale’s eyes shot open. He stared into Crowley’s yellow eyes for just a moment, and even though he had stilled his hand, it was too much.

“Fuck!” he yelled, contorting on the bed as he came, painting his own torso white. His wings unfolded suddenly behind him, so uncontrolled they knocked over the lamp on the side table. He cursed and shook and cursed some more, his wings quivered and rustled, while he stroked himself through it, giving in to the inevitable.

Crowley was mesmerised. He had been wrong before. Now this was definitely the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed. He stared at the angel, eyes dilated, unmoving, soaking in every gasp and cry. Aziraphale only slowly came to. His hand still fisted in the blanket he cautiously opened an eye.

There was a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry about your lamp,” he said, sheepishly.

“That’s all you’re sorry for?” Crowley asked with an incredulous laugh in his voice.

“Yes?” Aziraphale tried.

“The nerve…” Crowley shook his head. “How long?”

Aziraphale had either completely collected himself or was too fuzzy in the aftermath of his spectacular orgasm to care. He dragged a finger through his own release, white against the dark gloves. Crowley felt the urge to surge forward and suck it off the leather.

“Angel…” he hissed menacingly.

“About half an hour, if you must—”

“Not what I meant, and you know that.”

Then Aziraphale blushed, looked to the side.

“Not for very long. A decade, maybe two…”

“You’re trying to tell me that you’ve been sneaking into my various houses for years and pleasured yourself on my bed?”

“...yes?”

“Why didn’t I notice earlier?”

Aziraphale shrugged. Crowley desperately tried to ignore that the angel was still naked, covered in his own release, cock now soft, so soft that Crowley wanted to kiss it—so he did. He fell to his knees in front of the bed, gathered Aziraphale closer and nuzzled into his crotch, kissing his soft member reverently. Aziraphale gasped just as softly, part surprise, part pleasure, part… 

“I love you,” Crowley mumbled as he buried his face in the softness, licking it.

“What was that?”

“Idiot. You heard me.”

“Mhm…” Aziraphale hummed. “Maybe I’d just like to hear it again, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> I read too much A/C and now I had to write some too. It's short, but I hope you enjoyed!


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